The air clung to my skin, a wet washrag waiting to be wrung out. Grabbing a hand full, I squeezed until liquid filled my bucket, smelling sweetly of new mown hay. It ran down my arms and pooled around my feet. "Ern's Better'n Nair'n, Kris" my granny would say long ago when I complained about lack of something. How to account for too much of a good thing? Water covered the yard. Making it hard to breath deeply. This poem covers the page in messy writing, impossible to transfer to the page. Full of aulasy, I fight on. Water and words covering me, the page still empty. Ahead, I see nothing but more nothing, but I plunge squeezing words into the bucket with a rapidity that startles even me. Pero, ¿a quién le importa? The bucket, tired and full walks off stage, splashing overflow into the already flooded yard. A vivid image? I will be lucky to complete with a limp image, let's try though. The air smells blue overhead. The sun, a round ball of yellow fire, begins to dry the yard. the wet dishrag I didn't have, I toss after the fleeing bucket, making a SPLISH, SPLASH.
wow wow i really enjoyed following the journey this poem took me on. having read some of your other poems, it was really cool to see how this prompt allowed you to stay true to styles, forms, themes that i have seen in other of your writing while also adding new and different elements. i really loved the personification of the bucket and the incorporation of spanish.
Marvelous, Kris! The 20-project prompt is in itself a challenge, and rarely is it possible to end up with anything even remotely cogent. Well done!!! Plus a captivating story in its own right.
I don’t remember doing one of these 20 projects before. It was certainly a challenge!